


Bleeding Red, but Metaphorically

by 2trangerMcDanger



Series: pitch solkat [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Romance, Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marking, Sloppy Makeouts, pitch - Freeform, still kind of awkward, you know what kismesis do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2trangerMcDanger/pseuds/2trangerMcDanger
Summary: Ever since that horribly uncomfortable exchange you had, he’s been different. Not bad different, at least not very bad. When you’re alone, he’s quiet, which isn’t wildly out of character, but it’s weird. And the way he moves around you feels like he can’t bear to touch you.He’s nervous. He’s nervous and it’s hilarious, but you won’t make fun of him for it just yet.xxxDraft 2





	Bleeding Red, but Metaphorically

You’ve always wanted a romantic first kiss. When you first got to see or be in the same room with Terezi, she wasn’t a good candidate for what you refuse to call her disgustingly licking across your whole mouth and then biting it afterward, a kiss.

So when you finally convinced Sollux into your quadrants, you felt like you finally had a shot at a proper and nice experience. Except “proper and nice” when referring to kissing is not meant for the relationship you’re in. And if you didn’t consume an unhealthy amount of romance content, you’d think that pitch-mates don’t kiss at all from how Sollux has been acting.

Ever since that horribly uncomfortable exchange you had, he’s been different. Not bad different, at least not very bad. When you’re alone, he’s quiet, which isn’t wildly out of character, but it’s weird. And the way he moves around you feels like he can’t bear to touch you.

When you finally, get brave enough to make a move on him, like putting your arm around him, he freezes and keeps his hands to himself.

At first, it was concerning. You thought he may be going through another manic phase, but when the problem persisted, you quickly came to what you believe is the correct conclusion.

He’s nervous. He’s nervous and it’s _hilarious_, but you won’t make fun of him for it just yet. 

You’ve tried kissing him before, and you’ve discovered how Sollux is when he’s flustered. He’s not the cute kind of flustered, where stays super still, and blushes all deep or covers his face. Nor is he what you expected, which is still covering his face, but while he spits insults at you much faster than he normally does and maybe hits you a couple of times with his weak limbs.

Flustered Sollux is equally hilarious after the first few times. He never tells you he’s flustered or reassures you when you feel like you fucked up. Flustered Sollux shoves you hard in the chest when you get to close and whips out the really hurtful insults that he saves up, body language closed off. At first, you thought he was upset at you, like actually upset, not fake upset that requires a bullshit apology and the more bullshit the more likely he is to accept it.

You talked about it a little, and he says he “just doesn’t like being that close” but that’s bullshit, you can tell he’s lying, his eyebrows do this little pinch and his mouth does a little twist.

“So you don’t like when I do this??” You say, and scoot super close to him. You’re sitting on a really terrible couch that’s hard and lumpy on purpose to keep people from sleeping on it. You two slide until he’s at the very end and you’re thigh to thigh. Sollux stiffens his back and his shoulders tense.

You’re calling his bluff.

But he doesn’t push you away, and you know why. It’s because he doesn’t actually have a problem with space. He never did. All those bullshit boundaries of “I need to have some personal space” were full of shit, and you know that now, not from him telling you.

“Your immaturity never ceases to amaze me…” He’s looking down and off to the side as he mumbles this, his hands fidgeting uselessly. That's what you expected.

“That wasn’t what you were referring to? This is fine when it comes to stupid personal space??” Your arm wraps around his shoulder, and he _freezes_. “What about this? How is this??” You’re not asking these out of genuine concern, you already know the answer. You’ve done it before and he seems alright. He seems alright now. Like his usual self. And he confirms your predictions, muttering, “yeah, this is fine…” but he’s still tense.

“Dude, come _on_. You’re being such a fucking pansy about this. If you don’t wanna kiss me, say it.”

“That’s—“He groans out, and rubs his eyes with one hand. “God, _fine_, I’ll do it, rip the fucking bandaid off.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, but he does kiss you. It’s short, you didn’t have a lot of time to react, and he doesn’t move any part of him except his head, but he did it.

You want to rip his head off. “_Obviously_ that doesn’t count.” You mumble, and he ignores you.

“I hate this part of relationships…”

“What? Kissing?”

“_NO_, fucking _god,_ do you even listen?? Do you think you could handle the very simple task of _keeping the fuck up??_” Sollux seems to be a little more relaxed, and you want to finally make good on beating the shit out of him, but he keeps talking. “I meant…the beginning, where everything is new and stupid and awful. I don’t—Can we skip to being together for a couple of sweeps already?” he leans back into your arm and there’s a stab in your chest of something you ignore immediately.

The feeling in your head is like when you have a whole day full of shit to do and only so many hours to do them. You want to shove him to the floor and kick him in the ribs for talking to you like that, _how the hell am I supposed to know anything you don’t tell me??_ You’d say to him while he’s coughing on the floor and apologizing. But the stab in your chest is bleeding and getting messy all over the place, it pools around the control panel of your brain, and it bleeds a shade of red that it shouldn’t be. Less literally this time, you roll in your head.

You vacillate really easily. Like, _really_ easily. All those things in your head? You really want to do, those aren’t fake or make-believe. But instead, what you do is touch his cheek real soft, and pull him into a more proper kiss.

It’s a little weird, the way his teeth take up so much room in his mouth and on his face, and the way they really weirdly recede back as he returns the kiss. It’s much nicer this time. Your hand slides across his face to play with his hair. It’s everything you wanted in a kiss, even if it is sickeningly red.

When you pull back, you’re both smiling, but Sollux can never be civil, even for a moment. “Thanks, but that doesn’t really solve my problem.” That’s enough to snap you back to black. 

“God, why do I even bother with you! You’re the one who’s being a pussyfooting shitbag about all this.” You withdraw your hand and shove him just a little and he looks genuinely sad about it. For a second, at least.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, super sorry for not throwing myself on your floor every day, completely naked and waiting for you to come home. Oh KK how was your evening trolling humans even though that phrase is so utterly asinine it makes my head hurt and my eyes strain?? Get over yourself, we’ve been dating for like a week.” He turns himself towards you, one of his legs folded on the couch in front of you between the space you’ve made.

“I’m not asking for you to be a weird fucked up slutty maid, I’m asking for you not to become a _corpse_ when I try to—to do anything!”

“You do it around everyone! I thought this was a secret, do you want this entire fucking universe to know?”

“Maybe I don’t want it to be a secret anymore! Maybe I’m okay with the universe knowing, and you’re too busy being a fucking _coward_ to take your fucking thumbs out of your ass and be a fucking troll about something for _once_ in your disgusting embarrassing life.” You lean closer as you talk, and Sollux lunges for you, colliding your faces together straddling himself on your lap as you violently mash teeth together.

Both your hands jam themselves through his hair and yank. He pulls away just enough to break your kiss, but in retaliation, he wracks his claws on your neck, from the back, all the way around, and down.

Instinctively, your hands bolt out and touch the scratch. It’s not a gaping wound, but there are a few beads of blood on your palm when you touch it. Without thinking, you shove the collar of your sweater into the wound and it stings.

A growl rumbles from your throat and you shove him off you. While he’s still surprised, you shove him down again, teeth going right to his neck, and he _whimpers_, and it makes a deep part of you light up, but you don’t let go until at least a few seconds pass. He’s scrabbling and scratching at you through your shirt, and yanking at your hair, but you let go when _you_ want to.

It’s not bloody, to your dismay, and it’s not as easily visible as his mark on you. But it’s bruised already, indented and wet with saliva. After you admire it a little, you look down at Sollux, all yellow-faced and breathing heavy. He looks like a caged animal and you’d never thought you’d say that as a compliment.

“Guess there’s no hiding it now.” You smile down at him deviously and he punches you in the stomach and yanks you down for another kiss. This time, the teeth stay, scrapping and biting your lip and his clumsy tongue trying to cram its way into you before you shove him back, not only to breathe but to cough. A bitch knocked the wind out of you and then kissed you like he just learned what the word meant.

“Wait wait…” He says, out of breath too. He pushes you back to sit up, now on his lap as he pushes the collar of your sweatshirt out of the way. “It needs to be…you need another one.” You forgot about his shitty OCD or whatever he has, everything must be in pairs or symmetrical or he’ll never shut up about it. So, when his hand wraps around the back of your neck again, and he scratches _harder this time_, you don’t stop him. You just cringe and wince a whole bunch. “Perfect.” He says, delicately touching the swollen skin there.

Sollux has never attached the word ‘perfect’ to you. Even though you know he’s not talking about _you_, he’s talking about what he _did_ to you. It counts in your head, where it’s important and people are apparently keeping track. It makes that stab wound from earlier pulse a little, mingling with the black mess you’ve made all over the floor together in delicate swirls.

You cave in to the urges in your head and lean down, not fast and primal this time, but slower, kissing his cheek, corner of his mouth and then his lips again. Sollux shifts uncomfortably, but his arms naturally wrap around your shoulders. When you pull back, he ruins the moment again. “Why are you such a freak.” He huffs, faced tilted down and clearly not looking at you while going back to touching your neck scratches. It tickles slightly and stings just a touch as well, but you don’t react.

“I could say the same to you. Do you need me to bite you again to ease whatever demons in your head keep jacking off to the concept of things in pairs?”

“No.” He says, with surprising hesitation. “I think if it looks like shit, it’ll remind me of you.” The way he says that is so weird. He doesn’t say it like a spiteful insult, but more like a sweet momento. “But I wouldn’t mind if you bit me more.” His body language still reads sheepish and shy, and yeah, that wound is now pouring out as you take him up on that offer, dipping your head down to gently kiss below his collarbone.

The two of you continue making out for an hour or so, but it never gets past shirtless biting and scratching. He seems reluctant to take anything off despite knowing that you’ve seen him without a shirt before; you’ve spent many moons at his place, and his at yours, both for different reasons respectfully. He would never invite you over to hang out, his hivestem was too small and crowded with all his “incredibly necessary” wires and mindframes or whatever he called them. Your hive was bigger and always much cleaner. But then again, he never _invites_ you to help him with his manic bullshit, so there’s that as well.

You digress.

His smooth torso is like a blank canvas begging for some color or contrast and you give it to him, gladly. Unsurprisingly, he’s a pansy in this region too, and doesn’t seem to have much of a tolerance for this type of pain despite bragging about how migraines and having all his organs exploding is “totally a breeze”. Every time you bite or scratch him, he squirms and whines and bitches and flails. “Easy on the fucking chompers.” He hisses at you.  
“What the fuck are we doing here??” you yell back, apparently too loud, as he whines about that, too, shushing you harshly and covering your mouth with his hands until you slap them away.

Your vacillation problem is consistently inconsistent, randomly pulsing and swirling in between your hateful words. Sometimes, you just take a long look at him and it happens, both ways, that it. Or he says something to mock you or something that reminds you of what a weak little bitch he is, and it all spirals out of control. Every time it does, he gets taken aback by it, stammer just a little bit out of surprise and you’d like to think it gives you an advantage.

After about an how, he’s got no stamina left, and it’s just like him. “Finished already?? I could’ve gone for twice as long.” This comment you make elicits the _exact_ reaction you wanted from him, a tempted scowl that writes clearly on his face that he wants to continue just because of that, but you can see he’s about to pass out.

Your fingers skate across each little bump, bruise and scratch across his chest, all left below the collar of where his shirt usually lays, and you did that intentionally and when you help him find his shirt, you oogle him a little more to make sure even further. Everything except the big bite is hidden, but that was his fault and you will not be held accountable for it. You remain topless for the time being just because fuck you, it’s your block, you can wear or not wear whatever you want. You haven’t surveyed your own damage, but you can feel the sting of some of them.

When you walk him to your door, and watch him leave into the meteor’s hallway, you don’t kiss him goodbye and it doesn’t feel like a loss. You’ve got plenty of good kisses to think about.

You’re not upset that he’s not ready to tell everyone about you yet. It’s not that big of a deal, and at this point, you know he’s just nervous and it’s a courtesy for him. He knows he’ll have to tell people eventually; your friends aren’t idiots. They know, but you let him think he’s more socially capable than he is.

xxx

The next evening, Kanaya sees the scratches on you, accompanied by a couple more small marks just peeking up above your sweatshirt and she just smiles knowingly, “your Kismesis give you those?” She says, delicately manicured hands curiously touching her painted lips and her other hand vaguely gesturing to what she’s talking about.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Fussyfangs.”


End file.
